Men Should Be What They Seem
by BipolarMolar
Summary: -as Iago said. Set during after Riley's death. Walker intends to show Ste just how easy it is for him to get to Ste. Stalker(in all senses of the word) slash ensues. Ste's POV. Please review if you liked it!


**Men Should Be What They Seem**

**Disclaimer: I make no money from this.**

**Walker uses Ste to show Brendan just how easy it is for him to infiltrate his life.**

Ste wasn't paranoid. You're not paranoid if someone's out to get you. And someone was.

Walker. The strange man who had crawled in past the defences of Brendan Brady- something Ste had thought was impossible. The man who had claimed to be an honest officer to Doug, making him aid Walker and endanger others, ignorant of the danger. The lowlife _scumbag _who had tried to shoot Ste but hit Riley instead. Riley Costello, footballer, father, friend. Ste would sometimes see Doug staring at a photograph of Riley and him, taken when they were on some lad's night out knees-up, smiling away. Just _staring_, staring at that frozen face. Ste wanted to just wrap his arms around Doug so that he'd never let go, refusing to relinquish his hold on the one stable thing in his life right now. He felt useless.

But now, walking home with a bag of shopping, he'd been unable to cast aside the paranoia. A shiver ran up him, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He glanced around, through his lashes, trying to be discreet, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Ever since Walker had gone AWOL, he'd been panicked, fearing the renegade cop would return to hurt Ste, or maybe even Doug. He quickened his steps.

When the flat was only a few steps away, Ste could breathe again. No maniac watching him, no hand on his shoulder, no gun at his face. He was safe and the police were just another day closer to catching Walker.

He opened the door, stowing the key away in his jeans pocket and let the bag fall to the floor with a thump. A sigh slipped from his mouth. He was home.

He'd barely taken two steps into the room before a cold, gloved hand curled around his mouth, clamping over his lips painfully.

Ste's initial reaction was to fight- he struggled, lashing out but an arm snaked around his front, his unseen attacker restraining him. Black-clad hands were grabbing at his arms, his shoulders, and he was dragged to the corner of the room. As his back slammed the wall hard- his head hit it too and his vision blurred. Ste whimpered, blinking furiously and when his eyes had sharpened, he was starting at Simon Walker's face.

"Hello, Steven." Walker's face was transformed into a mask of madness, a manic grin and shining eyes too wide, bulbous. His lip hadn't healed well, the scar curving over the full lower lip, only making him broken but demented. Dangerous.

"What the fuck are you _doing?_ Let me go, Walker or I swear- you wait 'til Brendan gets here-"

Walker couldn't have looked more delighted at Ste's vehemence. A laugh that resembled glass shattering tumbled from his lips and Ste wished he could clap his hands over his ears, but they were sandwiched at his sides.

"How's Brendan going to know to come, when he doesn't even know you're in danger?" Walker cocked his head to the side, feigning sweet innocence. "_Am_ I dangerous, Steven? Are you…frightened?"

Ste shook his head viciously, squirming in Walker's clutches. "He'll come; Brendan will come for me-"

"Like Batman! Brendanman! The Irish Knight!" Walker giggled, his hair falling across his face as he succumbed to mirth. "I suppose that makes me the Joker, doesn't it? Quite right too- got the banged-up face I suppose." Walker's voice suddenly dropped, into a sombre tone. The changing moods were making Ste dizzy. "But we are like Batman and the Joker, you know. Each wants to destroy the other. I'm nothing without him, and he needs me. We define each other. If my brother hadn't been _murdered_ by your _ex,_ if I'd never even _heard_ the name Brendan Brady- you and me, _Ste_- our paths would never have crossed. We never would have met and sweet, bumbling Riley would have lived to score another day," Walker leant in close, his lips brushing Ste's ear. Ste felt the deep vibrations of Walker's low voice traveling into his ear canal and shivered at the sensation. "Just something to muse upon," Walker whispered, eyes flickering shut. Ste was reminded inexplicably of a cobra being lulled to a trance by a snake charmer's tune.

But then Walker sniffed, his jaw clenching and eyes snapping open. The look in his eyes, Ste realised, was just…empty. The relentless wave of blue-grey that bored into his own eyes had seemed alight with malice, with fire, but now they seemed so empty, so lifeless. A drained, washed-out colour. Cam had been Walker's soul, and his death had ripped out Walker's compassion, his mercy. So the windows to the soul were just as empty.

Ste looked into a haggard face, etched with lines of old anger and raw, bleeding misery and felt something he'd never thought he could feel: sympathy.

Now though, with new thought in his mind and that fragile light in his eyes, it was obvious Walker wouldn't listen to reason, the showman was back. Walker regarded Walker with a false arrogance and smirked at the man. "Nah, the Joker. Not my style. No man should wear that much make-up." Fingers tightened on Ste's collar and he gasped, Walker's full weight was pressed tight against him, winding him.

"I prefer to think, Steven, that I'm more like Shakespeare's Iago. Honest and loyal on the outside, but on the inside-_ I am merciless_. I'd use anyone; knock down countless bodies to get what I want. And you know what? When I'm caught, like Iago, I won't tell my story. Explain my actions for a deal, a better sentence inside. No… 'From this time forth, I never will speak word.' "

Walker's giddy gaze was back and Ste couldn't look away, couldn't blink, even as his eyes watered-

"The things I'd do, Steven. To get what I want, ha, it even scares me sometimes, all that…possibility, you know? Stretching out in front of me. But _oh_, Steven, Steven…" Ste's name sounded like a lover's gasp on Walker's lips and he recoiled from the sound. So wrong, on Walker's lips. So wrong. "What I've done, so many things- Steven. I even, shhh, Steven, don't struggle; _I even let Brendan fuck me."_

Walker must have felt Ste tense beneath his fingers because he gave a raspy chuckle. "Yeah, I got to sample the touch of Brady. Was a bit underwhelming, frankly, don't know what you're all so fussed about-" Perhaps Walker's own words were riling him up because he seized fistfuls of Ste's collar, tugging cruelly on it so Ste was pulled forward, crashing against the man. As he slumped against Walker, his head fell to Walker's shoulder and Walker's hands fell to Ste's back. They may have looked like two lovers entwined, to an outsider.

"Makes you wonder," Walker began grandly, ands Ste trembled in the strange embrace, craning his neck to hear the words. "What else I'd do to get what I want."

Ste's head whipped round, his startled eyes widening in horror but before he could speak, Walker had lunged, smashing his lips down on Ste's.

When Walker's mouth hit his own, pressure grinding roughly, Ste managed to get an arm free from Walker's vice-like hold, and clawed at Walker's shoulder as the officer tried to gain entrance into Ste' mouth. Ste's lips pulled tightly closed to stop the sloppy hot tongue from getting any further, but when Ste tried to bite down on the offending appendage in frustration, Walker took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into Ste's mouth, stabbing it down his throat in a way that made Ste's whole head hurt.

His hands came up to grab handfuls of Walker's hair, to force that mouth away from his, but the way Walker held onto his back so firmly, all the better to mash their bodies together while his mouth ravaged Ste's, was so different from Doug, from what he'd had…he needed this, this _passion…_

When his fingers succeeded in tangling themselves in the messy mop of brown hair, he didn't have to use this new-found purchase to deter the other man. Ste just kissed him back and held on tight as if he never planned to let go.

It was when the air flew past his face and he landed inelegantly to the sofa, Walker still attached to him by hands and arms and lips (although Walker must have been responsible for their dive onto the couch) that some logical part of Ste's brain called forth its troops to sober up the lust-addled brain cells currently saying: kiss, bite, _taste._

The moment his body hit the sofa, Ste's mind cleared, the hazy arousal shaken away, as fragile as cobwebs. With an effort, he pushed at Walker's chest and their mouths ceased the wrestle.

Walker bore down on him, stormy eyes challenging and just a little bit mad. Ste felt a flash of fear go through him, and was shocked to find he was more than a little bit aroused. He couldn't help the erection and he knew Walker felt the hardness, draped as he was over the younger man.

"I w-want you to go. Now. Or I'll- I'll call the police." Ste told him, voice wavering with nerves.

Walker continued to stare at him, nothing breaking the gaze even as he shifted his weight, straddling Ste who lay lengthwise across the sofa. Walker grabbed hold of the armrest with his right hand, to free the left one. Ste couldn't look away even as his peripheral vision stirred, a flicker of movement- Walker's left hand moving to rest heavily on Ste's waistband-

"I _am_ the police Steven." And Ste gulped, feeling a hand slip down his trousers.

He gasped to feel a large, warm hand wrap around his cock, then groaned because it felt so _good._ He'd needed this, he just-uh. Spreading his legs wider, hearing the sofa's springs creak as Walker knelt between his legs, he bit back a moan, eyes falling shut. He should be pushing Walker away, running to find a phone, _hitting_ him, anything. Anything but lying here, sinking into soft pleasure, just letting Walker _use_ him…

"Don't…" he whispered but he made on effort to stop Walker, he even lifted his hips to help the trousers be tugged down.

Ste couldn't help comparing. Walker's technique to Brendan's- to Doug's- it wasn't an experienced hand that was currently pulling at his cock, catching the foreskin between two fingers. Brendan would slowly undo Ste; reduce him to a weak-kneed mess with slow, torturous strokes, intent on heightening the pleasure in an agonising climb, prolonging the pleasure. Doug was careful and gentle, pulling back to ask if he was hurting Ste, if he was doing it right. But Walker was ruthless, pumping hard at Ste's shaft in rough determined friction of a hot, dry palm. An old line from a book swam in his mind… _A bruising touch,_ he thought desperately, wincing and whining in the same breath, _he's got a bruising touch_.Pain-pleasure-pain-

He saw white sparks hissing over the darkness of his closed eyelids, hearing Walker's harsh breathing through gritted as he worked Ste over. A voice in his mind supplied that it was getting easier for Walker to move his hand up and down- lubricated by Ste's pre-cum.

Everything about this felt so shameful and dirty- lying on the sofa with his trousers dragged down to his calves, panting and rutting into Walker's palm. He didn't dare to open his eyes because the look on Walker's face had been terrifying, those steel-shutter eyes wide and expressionless, that wide-lipped mouth drawn in a blank line. Determination, no emotion.

As his orgasm approached, he grew more urgent, arching up into Walker's hand and moaning louder, his face still red from embarrassment and excitement. Walker sensed this ascension of pleasure, his hand sped up and before Ste knew it, he'd come, shooting his spunk up…it stained Walker's hand and trickled down his fingers…

Ste sagged back on the sofa, breathing heavily, trying to haul himself into a sitting position, impeded by Walker's weight. He didn't even notice a rustle, but then heard a faint click and looked up to find see Walker pointing his mobile phone at him.

"Pretty picture you make, Steven, all pink-cheeked, covered in your own…ha, I wonder- what will Brendan make of it when I send him this?" Walker seemed to expect an answer from Ste; when he received none, he looked disappointed. "My life, Steven, revolves around Brendan. Years, years of my life…searching for him. Hunting. _I hate him_ but yes, there's something about that man... something magnetic, something that makes you question yourself. You can't help but be drawn in. but you- _loving_ him," Walker's lips just brushed over Ste's, and he let him. He said nothing as Walker slowly got to his feet, holding the mobile in a style reminiscent of when he'd aimed a gun at both Brendan and Ste. Ste didn't move, he just watched Walker climb off the sofa with his open anorak flapping at his waist.

"Count to a hundred for me to leave. Don't move a muscle or I'll hurt you." Walker instructed, now taking backwards steps through the room.

Ste began to count, feeling horribly vulnerable in his state of undress. "One, two, three…"

When he finally reached one hundred, the door had clicked shut a long time ago and the only evidence of Walker's visit was Ste, where he still sat, alone and shaken.

He pulled his trousers back yup, wiping himself off with a Kleenex and sat there, hunched on the sofa with his chin resting on his knees, waiting for the moment when Doug would come home.


End file.
